Adventures in Scrapbooking
by Happenstancelove
Summary: Sam and Freddie learn by means of a couples' scrapbooking class, that being the typical couple may not always be preferable. Sequel to "Ender Will Save Us All" With a special surprise for 30 Seconds to Mars fans.


adventures in scrapbooking  
by: happenstancelove

"Stop it, you're going to break it," I begged.

"That's sort of the point."

"Come on, what has it ever done to you?" I asked, trying to wedge my way between it and Sam.

"What it's done to me is call me every two seconds since Thursday. Ever thought about getting a flip phone? Your butt has been calling me for the last two days!" Her head stuck out at me in strained aggression. And beautiful though she was, I wasn't about to let that distract me from getting back my brand new phone. It was a boysenberry.

"Why didn't you just ignore the calls?" I asked. It was a valid point after all.

"Oh, I did. I've ignored just about every phone call since Thursday. And you want to know what actually important phone call I missed because of your butt calling? Hmmm?" I shrugged. How was I supposed to know? "I missed a call from the Northwestern Institute of Meat. Do you realize that I could have won three hundred pounds of pork? Do you have any idea how this could have changed my life?"

"Pork? I should have known it was about meat…"

"Yeah it's about meat, Fredwart! "

"Sam, losing out on some meat…"

"Try three Hundred Pounds!"

"…three Hundred pounds of meat does not mean that you have to take it out on my phone!"

"Oh, I'm not just taking it out on your phone. After I'm through with your boysenberry, I'm going to take a cheese grater to your face."

"Sam!" I shouted, trying once again to take a grab at my boysenberry, she placed her hand on the top of my head and pushed back. "Sam!" It wasn't fair. My Boysenberry was brand new and I was still working out the glitches with the lock. You would think she would be somewhat more forgiving now that we were dating, but since thanksgiving, I only had claim to her in private, or at Carly's, who was the only other person that knew Sam and I were… involved. (And Spencer by extension).

"Quiet! I'm trying to concentrate and you're abnormally large head is making my palm all sweaty!" Yelled Sam as she perused my phone. I knocked her hand away and stood.

"What are you looking at?" I asked, suddenly horrified.

"I'm trying to read your texts," and yes, now I was positive I was horrified. "I see here you had a very interesting conversation with your mother about exactly how clean your bellybutton is…Hold on!" she shouted, suddenly excited. And then I realized what she had read. She finally found out my secret. "Freddie, you're an outie!"

"No I'm not," I immediately denied.

"Yes you are. This is your mother you were talking to. She knows everything about you. More things than I feel comfortable thinking about."

"Sam, please…"

"I can't believe you. I've known you for years and I had to find out like this!"

"Sam, what are you doing?" I asked as she inched her way towards me. The devious look in her eye didn't help my suspicion either. She hunched over in her attack pose, and I prepared myself for the painful blows that were inevitably coming. She jumped, tackling me to the floor. The back of my head fell against the floor. Carly who was watching from a safe distance, winced.

I cringed awaiting further pain, but the pain did not come. Instead I felt a slight draft. When I opened my eyes I noticed Sam was lifting up my shirt and reaching under. I slapped her hand away. "What are you doing?"

"Taking some hi-res pics of your super-hot belly button."

"You think my belly button is super hot?"

"No it's a disgusting deformity that should be exploited as soon as possible. Which is why these pictures are going to be put into mass print and posted all over the school with the caption: Fredward Benson's lost twin."

"So you're not going to hurt me?" I corrected myself, "At least not physically?"

"Hold your horses. After I get a few good shots, I promise I'll injure you."

"Sam?" I pulled her face forward. She jerked her head away from my hand. I made a second attempt, hoping I could lull her into distraction.

"Stop it Fredward! This isn't fair!" she complained as she was slowly easing her way down to me. I saw something in her eyes change. It was that something I saw every time I pulled her in to kiss her. It was the one instance Sam was ever vulnerable.

"I'll stop if you want me to," I told her, gaining distance on her. She was just an inch away. She raised an eyebrow indignantly, but didn't argue. As I pulled her into a kiss, I could feel her face turn to a smile. When I pulled away she tried her best to look angry with me. She let up a bit, and allowed me to sit up.

"I hate you," she growled. I smiled. She stood, and though I was just about to get up on my own, she hoisted me up.

...

The next day at school, I left third period with Carly in tow. She was trying desperately to explain to me the useful applications of twilight in everyday life, which I was trying with great effort not to scoff at. But only three steps out of the door we noticed them – Pictures of my bellybutton everywhere.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Carly. All I could do was nod in reply. I was speechless. "But… oh my gosh Freddie, you really are an outie!" Again I nodded. As we slowly moved up the hall the pictures just grew larger in size. Eventually I reached my locker which of course had my bellybutton scotch taped to it.

This was terrible. I hated it. Carly looked thoroughly disgusted, and I could tell she was trying to come up with some way to console me, but was coming up short.

"Why didn't you tell anyone that you… have this problem."

"Carly it's a belly button, not an ingrown toenail. I had no choice. I was born this way." Carly looked both sympathetic and revolted. I knew I should have deleted those texts…And as I was mentally beating myself up for not doing so, three girls from the basketball team waltzed up to us, laughing and pointing.

"Nice bellybutton Freddie. What else are you hiding under that shirt?" they asked as they made a grab for my neatly pressed polo. So not cool. Their laughter only grew as I pulled my shirt down.

"Outies are people too! I'm a human being!" I yelled after them. This only made things worse as more people pointed and laughed. Mr. Howard came out of his classroom and gave me detention. But after everything died down, Carly turned to me.

"Freddie, I think this is sort of serious," she pressed.

"It's not a big deal. There are a lot of outies who grow up to be perfectly normal functioning people!"

"No I'm not talking about that," she said. "I'm talking about you and Sam. Even after you guys made up last night, she still put up all of these pictures. Since you guys are dating now, don't you think things should quiet down? I mean, I really thought she wasn't going to put up those pictures…"

"Of course Sam was always planning on putting these up. She's Sam. That's just who she is," I said passively. It wasn't like the moment we decided to start dating she suddenly turned into the Glinda the good witch of the North. (Yeah, so what if I went to see Wicked with my mom? Is it a crime for a teenage boy to be knowledgeable in the world of musical theater?)

"Wait what? I thought she agreed not to put them up."

"Sam didn't agree to anything. Exhibit A: My dismantled Boysenberry," I pulled out the remnants of my phone from my pocket, and Carly looked shocked to see it. Really, Carly should know better.

"See, this is what worries me. This isn't a normal relationship!" I stopped in my tracks and turned.

"What do you mean?"

"Normal couples don't get into physical exchanges every few hours, or destroy each other's property, or embarrass each other publicly!"

"Since when are Sam and I normal?" I pointed out. And though I was putting on a cool front, I was somewhat worried by what Carly was saying.

"I know you two have a history, but I don't think this will last if you two don't do something to fix this constant putting each other down. I just don't want things to end badly!" she pointed out. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. Carly did have a point. I materialized a lame excuse off the top of my head and walked home, trying to clear my head. What if she was right? What if this thing with me and Sam was destined for failure? I did like Sam, and yes I was happy with the way things were going right now – but what if things did end badly? My head was simply leaking with 'what-ifs.' On my way out the double doors of Ridgeway, I thought I saw a blonde head of hair peeking out behind a row of lockers. My first instinct was to check if it was Sam. But I pushed the thought away. Sam had fourth period Economics which she was already failing. I was the one who drew up the contract which I made her sign, promising she would attend every class and pull her grade up so I would take her to prom. There was no way she was ditching.

On second thought... Maybe Carly was right. Maybe we weren't a normal couple.

...

The weeks following that awkward conversation sucked - big time.

There was something Sam wasn't telling me. To be honest Sam was hardly telling me anything. I'd tried calling and texting her but her replies (if they came at all) were usually one syllable words or grunts. I could tell something was up. Maybe it was a self fulfilling prophesy. I was scared that things were going to end badly - and there was no way I could construe Sam's ignoring me, as good.

After a week and half of her shrugging me off during iCarly rehearsals and avoiding me at school, I had to say something.

"Can we talk about this later?" she asked placing her hand on her hip, finally deciding to face me. I mean, was it so difficult to just stop and acknowledge my presence? For days she'd been so evasive. Had I done something? What if what Carly had predicted was coming true? Maybe Sam was tired of me. Maybe I'd done something wrong.

"No we can talk about this now! I haven't seen you in days... You can talk to me ya know? If there's something bothering you…"

"NOTHING's bothering me."

'Than what's up?"

Sam didn't say anything. She merely shrugged and diverted her eyes. It was the Sam way to be vague when she didn't want to say what was on her mind.

"Look I'm fine. Don't worry about it okay?"

"How am I not supposed to worry about 'it'?" I asked I placed my hand to her forearm, which she shrugged off and rolled her eyes at. I had expected that, but it should at least have been followed by some sort of verbal assault. Now I realized just how serious things were. "And what is 'it' anyway?"

"Like I said, 'it' is nothing. Now, I have to get to class…" she said pulling away. If she no longer loved me and wasn't even interested enough to attack me than the situation was much worse than I had anticipated.

"Wait, just hold on a second…" I begged. She turned around – the look on her face telling me she was anything but willing. "Look, this Saturday…" I struggled, "Come with me. I'll take you some place fun. We can grab something to eat afterward. I promise I'll make it as painless as possible?" Sam eyed me curiously. She looked as though she was coming around reluctantly.

"Somewhere fancy?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"If that's what you want."

"And I can steal the silverware?" I sighed and returned her shrug. If silverware was what it took to get Sam back to her normal self, than that was fine with me. I made a mental note to leave an extra large tip.

…...

I picked Sam up Saturday afternoon. She didn't exactly look thrilled, but it was a miracle she was even coming. I didn't tell her where we were going. I thought it would be better if I got her there first. It would be more difficult for her to escape that way.

"What the heck?" Her face fell as we pulled up to the address. We'd spent a half hour looking around, unable to find the correct place. But now that we were here, I wished we weren't. We were parked in front of a house was painted a soft pink, the shudders weren't much better. The curtains were a flower print and neatly tied with ribbons. The porch steps were lined with Carnations and Morning Glory. "I'm not going in there," she announced flatly.

"Why not? I haven't even told you our plans. For all you know Lared Jeto from Cuttlefish could be in there right now."

"Yeah, I highly doubt a rock star like Lared Jeto from Cuttlefish is going to be in that Barbie dream house. Wow Fredward you are as lame as I thought if you really believed I was going to go willingly in there!

"Sam!"

"I told you I'm not going out there; I could be mugged by Nancy Drew!" There was the girl I knew and loved!

"Come on. After this we can go to that French restaurant by Bushwell and talk really loudly on our cell phones to each other from across the table."

Sam again seemed reluctant, but she nodded and agreed only after I promised her several plates of fancy French steak. We walked up the porch steps, weary of the hand painted lawn gnomes.

"Freddie I think that one's looking up my skirt," she said pointing at it. "It's like its eyes are moving!"

"Sam, it's a lawn gnome. It's not moving, I promise..." I stared at the gnome. "Hey Sam?"

"What!"

"I was wrong... " I admitted. It was almost like it was getting closer to Sam.

The door opened, and the flood of voices leaked outside onto the porch. And in the doorway appeared a woman with tightly wound graying curls and bottle of eggnog in her hand.

"Oh hello, how may I help you?" she asked pleasantly, the smiling never faltering. Sam looked at me than at that woman.

"You could start by teaching your pervy gnome some manners before I press charges for sexual harassment," replied Sam angrily. I stuttered for a moment or two, than finally was able to speak.

"Um, yes, we're here for the couples' scrapbooking class?" The woman's eyes widened and she roped up both Sam and I and pulled us through the entrance. Inside it was uncomfortably warm and there were cats of every breed lounging on the staircase.

"You two must be Freddie and Samantha? Oh wonderful! I'm afraid we waited as long as we could, but we've already started!"

"That's fine. We'll just join in, wherever you are," I answered. Sam was speechless and kept looking around in disbelief. She wasn't arguing so that was a step up. I just wished I could know what she was thinking.

…...

What the heck? Yeah so I hadn't exactly been hanging off of Freddie like a wet rag, but that hardly meant that there was something wrong. And then to have to bring me here? What was he thinking? I mean, I realized the kid had obviously had some serious damage done to him by his insane mother, but perhaps I'd underestimated the harm inflicted on him.

And okay, maybe something was wrong… but it wasn't what Freddie thought. The day I had put the pictures of Fredward's stomach growth all over the school, I had seen Carly and Freddie walking together after third period. I had tried to go and talk to them, but stopped when I heard the mention of my name.

I had hid behind some lockers and listened to what Carly had to say. I wish I hadn't.

Our relationship "wasn't normal." And it wasn't "right." I heard Carly's words replaying in my mind day and night. No, maybe things weren't right, but I thought they were okay. I had been pretty happy with the arrangements Freddie and I had. So what if I had put up those pictures and killed Freddie's butt-tastic phone? It was what I always did… Was I just supposed to change? Was I just supposed to become a daffodil? Would Freddie like that?

We sat down at a table with two couples at each side, and the crazy cat lady whose name was apparently Noreen and her husband Ted sat at one end of the table. Freddie and I sat at the other. Paper and glitter and those specialty scissors that cut in squiggly patterns were everywhere. And to make it worse, the other couple here for "couple's Scrapbooking" was married and insane.

"This is Fredward and Samantha. Samantha, Fredward, this is Peter and Janet." Her cheerfulness was starting to get to me. Freddie was enthusiastic about the whole thing and smiled and waved. I tried my best not to kick something – or specifically, someone. Honestly, scrapbooking?

Peter and Janet were in their late forties and appeared to be struggling over a hot glue gun. They smiled and said hello, but immediately went back to gluing.

"Peter and Janet have been coming here every week for the last three years," said Noreen, obviously very proud, as though they were her star pupils.

"Yes we have! Noreen and Ted have saved our marriage!" said Janet, leaning over to kiss her husband. I cringed and looked at Freddie hoping he would he would return my disgust. Instead he smiled at them and put an arm around me. I sunk deeper into my hatred of this house and everyone in it. After a few moments, Peter and Janet continued gluing pink hearts to a picture of them eating pancakes. That's when things turned for the worst…

"Dear, I love you, but would you mind taking your caveman hands off of the trigger of the glue gun. I don't want to have to throat punch you," asked Janet sweetly, grinning in Peter's direction. Peter didn't even look the least bit surprised. He faked a smile, and let go of the hot glue gun, which ended up falling into her hands. The hot glue was still running and burned.

"Ow hon, that hurt!"

"Sorry, it slipped."

...

Sam and I just stared at each other. Okay, so this couple was apparently a little psychotic, but that didn't mean I wasn't right to schedule Sam and I for this. Carly had told me that unless I did something to fix things, our relationship was doomed to failure. Sam looked livid, but for some odd reason, she didn't fight back. At least not openly.

She stuck a piece of art chalk in my ear canal while Peter and Janet got into a "discussion" about the color of the ribbon which should be applied to their scrapbook spine. So no one seemed to notice when I screamed in pain at the feeling of my ear drum being punctured by a dull piece of pink chalk.

"Janet, I must not be communicating my ideas very well because you're not understanding that this pink ribbon is obviously the perfect choice and would nicely accentuate the binding."

"Peter, I understand exactly what you're saying. You are an excellent communicator, and I agree with you completely that the pink ribbon would definitely accentuate the binding. But I just love you so much and I don't want the pink to highlight that repulsive forehead acne you have here in the picture," Janet pointed to his face on the cover.

"Right, right dear, thank you for pointing that out. But I was only thinking of you, and the fact that the bright pink of the ribbon would draw attention away from your oddly shaped eyebrows. I mean really where did you have them waxed, planet Vulcan?" Peter placed a kiss on her cheek, as he also pointed to the picture. Sam let out a laugh.

The conversation continued for a good ten minutes before they decided to make the ribbon green.

Sam who was reluctant to start, finally gave in to making a scrapbook with me after promising her yet more meat and the complete first season of girly cow on DVD.

"Fine, we make a scrapbook, but it's not like we have anything to put in it..." she argued.

"What do you mean? We have plenty to put inside," I slowly revealed the stack of pictures I brought with me, from my coat pocket. "I transferred the pics from my boysenberry to my notebook and printed them this morning."

"How many are in here?" she asked mortified by the thick stack of pictures. I had to admit, taking pictures of Sam had become my new favorite past time.

"I dunno. 50? 60? 453?" I cleared my throat. I wanted to let Sam know I loved her. But I didn't want her to think I was a psycho stalker she should fear. She fiddled with her hands before looking up at me. She didn't say anything, but she picked up the stack and started looking through them - separating them into piles.

I watched in amazement as she did so. She looked almost - calm. I watched her expressions as she studied the pictures. Most of them she grimaced at. There were only a few she liked - which she added to the "use" pile for the scrapbook. There was one picture in particular she spent a long time on.

"That one's my favorite," I admitted.

"WHAT?" she asked incredulously. She whipped her head up to look at me as though she were offended.

"Yeah, it's nice." It was a candid shot of Sam when she was a kid laughing just inches away from the camera. All you could see was her face. Her mouth was open so wide you could see her back teeth.

"WHAT?" she asked again.

"You don't like it?"

"I _hate_ it," she deadpanned.

"Why?" I was honestly curious. There was nothing about the picture I didn't love. To me -that was Sam. Her eyes were squinted shut, her forehead creased, her lips pulled apart. I loved it. I really loved it.

"I look terrible."

"You were _twelve._"

"Last I checked, being twelve did not exempt you from looking terrible."

"I can't believe you!"

"I can't believe _you!_" We stared at each other for a solid minute. We were looking to see if either of us was lying. Finally Sam broke. "Why is it your favorite?" she asked furiously. I'd never seen Sam this way. She'd never been down on herself about anything physical. The girl had enough self confidence to eradicate global anorexia.

"It's my favorite because even then I knew that-" But before I could finish my sentence Noreen cut in.

"Alright couples! It's time for 'Open Feelings'!"

"Open feelings?" Sam and I said together.

"Ted and I will go first and show Freddie and Samantha how 'Open Feelings' Time works!" said Noreen as she put down a jar of rubber cement. Peter and Janet smiled and nodded as they began. They sure looked happy - but all I could feel was irritation.

Sam and I started making our scrapbook as we listened to 'Open Feelings' by Ted and Noreen.

"Ted I feel so happy that you are the companion of my life. I love you and want you to know that. But I have to say that I feel sad sometimes when you sleep by yourself at hotels or are gone a long time on business trips ... even though you're retired. And it makes me feel confused when I see credit card receipts that show you ordering flowers that aren't for me. And It also makes me feel suspicious that you have long phone calls in the middle of the night. And it makes me feel worried that you come home smelling like vanilla perfume. And..."

As Noreen continued Sam and I kept cutting and pasting random pictures into our scrapbook. Honestly we had no idea what we were doing - but it seemed much better to keep busy than to sit and listen as Noreen's "Open Feelings Time" became "I Know You're Having an Affair You Filthy Piece of Slime, Time." As Noreen's feelings became roaring accusations I knew it was the last chance I had at getting what I wanted to say to Sam, said.

"I love that picture of you."

"Not this again..."

"Honestly. I'm not lying to flatter you." Sam raised an eyebrow. "I was just going to say that that picture reminds me of how I feel when I'm with you. I'm happy, I have a good laugh. I don't have to be worried about anything because I have you. You chose me - and I'm the luckiest guy in the world for that. And even as a twelve year old kid - I knew that. I knew that if I could just get you to notice me, I might be the luckiest guy in the world. Maybe we're not a normal couple, but if that's what normal is..." I said gesturing to Noreen who was currently trying to strangle Ted, "I don't want it." I paused.

"You really think I'm beautiful?" she asked. "Because if you're lying Fredward Benson, I will cut off your earlobes with Noreen's craft scissors!" I knew her threat was legitimate. I was glad my answer was too.

"Yes." She wrapped a hand around my neck pulling me in for a kiss which was very welcome. In the middle of - whatever Sam and I were doing, I heard the room suddenly grow quiet. Sam pulled away from me as we opened our eyes drowsily looking around the table. Noreen and Ted, Peter and Janet, were gawking.

"Uh..."

"We're gonna go now..." said Sam, grabbing the scrapbook as we made a run for the door. All four of the others chased us, berating us with questions. All of which could have been condensed to a single:

"How do you do it?"

Sam and I made it out of the door, though they still followed us out onto the entryway. Sam who was holding my hand let go and whispered in my ear: "Start the car, I'll be there in a second." I nodded and ran to the car. The crowd seemed confused at who to follow now that Sam and I had separated. Peter met me at the window to my car.

"Freddie Freddie!" I rolled up the window, starting to fear for my life. "How do you kiss a girl?" I ignored him, nearly running him over as I pulled up to the sidewalk to get Sam. She opened up the passenger side door, getting in, carrying something underneath her arm.

"What is that?" I asked. She pulled out the mystery object, and immediately I recognized it to be Pervy the Lawn Gnome. "You stole Noreen's gnome?" She smiled mischievously. "What are you gonna do to it?" I asked suppressing a laugh.

"Bad things."

By then the crowd had retreated back to the pink house. I was putting the car in drive when I heard a knock at my window.

"What now?" I looked up and saw a familiar face looking down at me. In disbelief I rolled down my window. "Lared Jeto?"

"Hey guys," he said as his hair swung in his face. His eyeliner was beginning to bleed. "Sorry to bother you." I looked back at Sam who's mouth was hanging open. "Am I too late for the scrapbooking class?'


End file.
